nothing special, but so special
by ithinkthisworldisprecious
Summary: Haru decides that maybe just possibly mackerel and swimming aren't the only things that he likes. Makoto decides that blushing to death isn't entirely possible. And if it is, it's probably not the worst way to go.
1. Chapter 1

Rude light slipped between the curtains of Makoto's bedroom window, dubbing everything in wake a subtle Sunday morning. 

Much like it did only a handful of hours ago, the previous evening, the light belonging to the moon though instead; somewhere far, far up high, cold and unreachable and dominating, slashing across the dark-haired boy's face, stimulating clarity to the sapphire blue of his irises as he shifted his position, setting the already-unexpected situation further into motion. 

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><p>Nanase Haruka and Tachibana Makoto had spent a typical, tolerant Saturday afternoon together, attempting to construct plans for the most ridiculous and tedious class project thus far that school year, (in Haruka's unreserved opinion). The study session consisted of unzipped bags and untouched books, a lot of lying on the floor at the feet of Haruka's dining room table, rapid-fire texting with their friends and teammates, Nagisa and Rei, and Makoto's endless lighthearted ramblings about upcoming happenings and anything else that he felt so inclined to muse about aloud.<p>

And Haru found himself murmuring agreeable hums in all the right places as he relaxed into the ongoing hours, contributing to the conversation in his own quiet way. Haru was well aware that he often unintentionally gave off the impression that he was ignoring basically everything taking place in life at any given moment, (whether or not when immersed inside a body of water), but in truth he wasn't at all so dramatically apathetic. He listened. He listened thoughtfully, to every single syllabary of every single word, weighing in on each and every breath of his messy-haired, kind-hearted best friend.

Maybe not for just anyone to that extent, but on lazy afternoons like this, with Makoto, it was the whole truth. And he sometimes caught himself wanting to make sure that Makoto knew that his words were of value.

Haru rested on his back, the brisk afternoon breeze sauntering in from the open window to his left as gentle as a whisper, mixing with Makoto's tone of voice, creating a lullaby that Haru would admittedly lean into and over the ricketiest railing for in order to claim maximum audibility. The shorter boy had both of his arms wrapped around a cushion, securing it to his middle as he simply tuned in and blinked, eyelashes framing each delicate glance over in Makoto's direction.

Makoto had been sprawled out languid to Haru's right, lying parallel to him, his half-bare arms shifting from one position to another while he talked as though the day had no end; from palms up by his sides, dangerously close to Haru's own extremities, to stretching up and in-between his head and the rectangular cushion beneath it, consequently drawing the bottom hem of his t-shirt up to his lower abs, the loopholes of his jeans and slight peek of his boxer briefs giving the quieter boy far too much to think about.

Haru felt lightheaded. Knowing that Makoto would talk honestly with him and share his time like this whether Haru ignored him or not forced the blue-eyed swimmer to swallow past the knot simmering in his core.

The knot, somewhere halfway in-between his heart and stomach, had made itself a home over an unmapped span of time. Maybe it really was unhealthy to eat mackerel to the extent that Haru had grown to prefer.

Or maybe he just genuinely enjoyed spending time with his best friend, having the stability of someone who knows him so well and uncoils underneath mutual trust, and all of the nagging, deprecating thoughts concerning the degree of his feelings should go the hell away. Feelings are not often born alongside explanations. Sure, some sentiments are capable of change, with massive amounts of effort and time, but this persistent warmth that Haru could no longer ignore was not something he could help. The knot was incapable of being digested, he was sure of it at this point. He couldn't just shoo it away, so long as it remained a secret.

And this pesky knot certainly had no intention of being forgotten when Makoto abruptly wrapped up his current sentence, (something about their new training regimen), sighing happily and tilting his head to meet Haru's gaze for the first time in quite a few minutes.

A chill wandered down Haru's spine as their eyes aligned with one another, his grip on the cushion weakening as the temptation to bring it up to his face so that he could scream into it grew. Haru felt himself accepting the fact that he was just going to have to get used to these emotions devouring him whole, pulling his helpless form forward mysteriously like the ocean tide.

Stupid perfect Makoto.

The bobbing of his adam's apple had ceased, his evenly-shaped lips gradually closing together in the form of a content smile, eyelids heavy as they searched the surface of Haru's subdued stare. This was suddenly far more than yet another simple, fleeting glance, and Haru wondered if he was only imagining Makoto's cheeks flushing darker, much like his own certainly were.

Makoto blinked his bright eyes endearingly. "We'll get a lot accomplished when Rei's over to help motivate us all," he said assuredly, with a hint of embarrassment, in regards to their lack of homework progress.

"Depending on how motivated he can get Nagisa to be," Haru replied, sounding unconvinced, his throat a bit dry.

Makoto broke their gaze, closing his eyes and laughing freely, having to consider the fact that Nagisa and all of his misdirected energy would indeed be joining their study session tomorrow before the start of the new school week.

"Aha…. Too true." The taller boy lifted himself up from his lounging position and sat cross-legged, placing his chin in the cup of his palm. "Well, we'll get the project started and done one way or another, no worries!"

Haru wasn't worried in the slightest, honestly, he had been over the entire assignment the moment it was announced in class, but he couldn't help but adore Makoto's steady sense of reassurance, always written readily in his expressions. They would complete their project and receive a good grade on it; it wouldn't play out any other way.

Haru bit down anxiously along his bottom lip when Makoto uncharacteristically seemed to have run out of words, his green eyes focusing back onto Haru's blue ones. They were right within arm's reach of each other, just as they always appeared to be, so Haru could do nothing but question his ravenous desire to be _even_ closer.

Relief tickled at the knot in his core when Makoto's ringtone shook them both awake from their momentary stupor, and he took the opportunity to hoist himself up onto his elbows as Makoto brought his cell phone to his ear with a surprised and breathless _moshi moshi?_

It had been Makoto's mother calling, asking a small favor of him, if he wouldn't mind stopping by the market for a few groceries on his way home.

"Mmm, hai," he had answered kindly, looking out the window sleepily as he took note of what his mother needed and wrapped up the phone call. Haru had stood up to stretch his limbs long, and ended up following Makoto's gaze outside to the fading vibrancy of the late spring sky, realizing just how quickly the day had slipped away.

And Haru accepted Makoto's invitation to accompany him down to the market for his errand.

And he felt a tingling sensation that was now all too familiar steal over him when Makoto reminded him to wear a light coat.

And when Makoto waited patiently by his side as he closed the front door behind them.

_And_ as they simply headed down the weathered staircases in the direction of the sunset.

The small seaport town came to a hush all around them as they found their way to the entrance of the Tachibana household with bags of groceries in hand, the hazy warm light from indoors ricocheting off the dark that they had walked through comfortably and silently.

And Haru was prepared to continue on alone in the thick darkness back to his empty home whether he truly wanted to or not, until Makoto's twin siblings, Ren and Ran, greeted them with the pitter-patter of their feet down the hallway and a lively _okaeri!_, Makoto's mother right behind them echoing _okaeri_ in a sing-song voice, looking rather exhausted, taking the groceries with thanks.

"Get comfortable, boys, dinner should be ready fairly soon," Makoto's mother said casually, the twins agreeing to this with enough enthusiasm for days. Makoto took off his coat and shoes while playfully telling his brother and sister to calm down, and turned to Haru with an airy laugh, one hand resting bashfully at the back of his neck. Haru stopped breathing and tried not to die.

_Wanna stay for dinner?_ Makoto seemed to ask, communicating wordlessly as he often times did, placing both hands in his pant pockets while rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Ren and Ran tore back down the hallway in route to the television, already expecting the boys to join them for as many rounds of video games as possible before the meal would be ready.

Haru managed to find his breathing again and responded by removing his own coat and shoes while the very embodiment of kindness itself smiled at his decision to stay. He slid into a pair of slippers and followed Makoto into the home that never failed to make him feel safe and sheltered, looking as nonchalant as ever while the clawing in his chest and whirling in his head cheerfully informed him that he was beyond screwed. 

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><p><em><strong>MakoHaru is like the reason I take breaths it's getting kind of ridiculous. I have the next chapter pretty much written and ready; would anyone be interested in a continuation...?<strong>_

_**Thank you for reading! Great to meet you!**_


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take much persuading for Haru to agree to spend the night, either.

At this point he was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten how to say no. Not that a sleepover was out of the ordinary for them on a weekend night or anything. Perhaps Haru's restlessness was being provoked by each passing of just another common occurrence in their practically life-long friendship. He was beginning to feel out of control, sensing some of that usual coldness about him melting away, dripping at his feet. Makoto wasn't the type to hold much of anything back, and yet Haru had hardly any clues as to what his friend thought and felt about some certain things….

Haru pondered all of this as he sunk with ease into the futon rolled out and made on Makoto's bedroom floor, the magazine that he had been flipping through tossed and disregarded somewhere beside him. He sighed at the ceiling, feeling good after his bath, and a bit warm at the thought of how the nightshirt that he was borrowing from Makoto didn't quite fit him right.

Makoto was taller and stronger than him, always having to glance slightly downwards, Haru having to tilt up his own chin accordingly. Makoto's shirts hardly ever covered Haru's collarbones, fitting shapeless on his torso and arms.

Haru's thoughts were granting him absolutely no mercy for his magnified feelings over a freaking _shirt_, when the sound of the bedroom door being opened carefully interrupted his quiet chaos.

It was Makoto, entering as though not to disturb the still of the home at this hour, his movements gradual and his hair slightly damp.

"Sorry, Haru, the twins caught me on my way out of the bath and I had to coax them back into bed," he explained in a low voice as though he had been gone for eons, shuffling in his slippers as he sheepishly made his way over to his bed.

Haru murmured in acknowledgement as Makoto maneuvered around Haru's futon. He stood by his bedside table where he carefully placed his thick-framed glasses after removing them from his face. Haru rotated onto his stomach, nestling half of his face into the pillow below him and feeling unnecessarily shy as he watched Makoto's little bedtime routine.

It was almost always the same for the brown-haired boy, starting with him removing his glasses and taking a moment or two to stretch his arms up and behind his head one at a time, making his shirt ride up again God _damn it_. Makoto would then pull back his bedding, fluff his pillows, and crawl on his knees to the center of his bed before lying down and bringing the covers up to the bottom of his nose, just as he always had since childhood, his honest eyes peeking out. He fingered through his hair and gave a finalizing sigh before reaching over to switch off the lamp atop his bedside table.

The room around them went dark, the light outside from the high moon allowing them to still see basic outlines, casting interestingly indistinct shadows throughout the snug space. Haru continued to squish his face into his pillow, not feeling very sleepy at all.

"So, having any mackerel withdraws yet?" Makoto asked lightly, his bedcovers rustling as he situated himself, resting on his side so that he was facing in Haru's direction.

Haru rolled his eyes before he could stop himself, the slightest of grins breaking free on his face. He was thankful that it was too dim for Makoto to see his reaction.

"I'm fine, dinner was good," he replied plainly, mostly muttering into his pillow. He always enjoyed meals at the Tachibana's, whether or not mackerel was on the menu.

"Hmm?" Makoto vocalized questioningly after a beat of silence.

"I just said I'm fine."

Makoto gave an approving hum. "Good, I'm glad," he professed sincerely. "It wouldn't ever be a problem for Mom to keep a stash of mackerel on hand for when you're over though, you know."

Haru gave a mild sigh. "You worry too much," he stated openly, taking a moment to steal a glance in the vicinity of the bed beside him. He could make out the shape of Makoto's shoulders beneath the covers, a pale silhouette of his profile embossed upon the wall.

"I _know_, I know, I'm sorry! I just can't help it…," Makoto whined gently, allowing the room to fall silent afterwards.

Haru closed his eyelids peacefully, imagining that Makoto was most likely grinning despite himself as well. "You care about the strangest things," he muttered teasingly.

"I care about _you_…. That's strange?" Makoto responded, much to Haru's surprise; his sneer must've been just loud enough for the backstroke swimmer to snatch hold of. Makoto was teasing him right back, but the earnest tinge underlying his question made Haru choke on his breath.

Makoto moved around once again underneath his covers, rather gracelessly up against the somewhat now-awkward quiet gripping them both.

"W-Well, goodnight, Haru," Makoto said, a bit dejectedly. "I had fun today…. Not that I don't always have fun! It's just, I guess I don't say it often enough, s-so…."

Crap. Haru squeezed his eyes shut tighter, marveling at how easy it was for him to be such a thoroughly awful person. He was literally at a loss for words, unable to think of any witty _or_ truthful comebacks to Makoto's question, and now there were signs of despondence stirring inside of the taller boy's voice. He was bumbling around as he often did, which was both winsome _and_ heartbreaking, only deepening the pressure by bulldozing over Haru ruthlessly.

"Goodnight…," Haru replied slowly, his eyes wide open once again. "I had fun, too," he added in a whisper, attempting to make up for being such an ass. It wasn't at all a lie.

But these just weren't the type of things you say _out loud._ Well, unless you happened to be Nagisa, always shouting whether he was happy or sad or needing to pee or this and that. He was the very definition of a fun day, one could argue. But you either had a fun day or you didn't, or a mix of both, to be more realistic. There's really no need to comment on it though because it's simply just the way it is… Right?

Haru bit back on his tongue, his pulse quickening on the verge of regret.

"Haruuuu, you spoke too quietly…," Makoto complained softly, as if he was used to all of these suppressed exchanges by now. "What was that?" he asked, lowering his own voice while still remaining audible.

And that was when the moonbeams pressing through the curtained windows took hold of everything that was weakening Haru's entire being, supporting him as he crumbled.

He sat himself up in his futon, shoulders suddenly light as air. He sensed Makoto jerk his head over in response to the sudden movement, his eyes most certainly lingering in bewilderment as Haru removed himself from the futon and crawled the short distance over to Makoto's bedside.

Haru remained kneeling, hesitantly placing his arms along the edge of Makoto's mattress, promptly finding those green eyes buried in the downy bunch of blankets. Haru felt some of his dizziness return, this moment and everything in it coated with surrealism, the heat escaping his toes and rising to the very tips of his ears.

He hastily looked downwards and off to the side as casually as possible, wishing with every bone in his body that the flush of his face wasn't obvious.

"I had fun, too," Haru repeated steadily. There was no way Makoto wouldn't be able to hear Haru now that he was right there at his bedside. Haru remained stationary, by some miracle still alive and not yet dead from humiliation. He could see the rise and fall of Makoto's chest out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh."

With Makoto's weak response ringing in his ears, Haru chanced a look back down at the amiable face that so expertly rips him apart. There were those green eyes, like brilliant treasure in the dark, the unusually preoccupied expression on Makoto's face making chills dart down Haru's backbone.

Despite the fact that this was turning into some sort of a blundering staring contest, Makoto didn't _seem_ uncomfortable, as far as Haru could tell. They were simply observing each other; _really_ looking at each other. Maybe for the first time ever…? Makoto was easy to look at, Haru mused. But it was practically agonizing not knowing what Makoto was thinking; not knowing what he saw and felt when looking so raptly into Haru's eyes.

And was it just his imagination or was Makoto leaving enough room for Haru to lay beside him, you know, just because? Who ever _actually_ lays directly in the center of their bed? Haru thinks he can probably fit, not probably most _definitely_ he would fit, fitting beside Makoto inside his bed wasn't the issue, it was just- _What the hell were these ideas running races through his mind?_

The whole situation was an awkward mess at this point and Haru desperately didn't want it to be. If he crawled back to his futon now without another word, where would that leave things? If he somehow peeled back the covers hanging off the edge of Makoto's bed and scooted himself up onto the mattress….

Now convinced that he was pretty much certifiably out of his mind, Haruka Nanase was proceeding along with his impulse before he had time to choose an alternate way out.

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><p><em><strong>Ohoho, slumber party. <strong>_

_**Thank you so much for reading! I hope to have Chapter 3 up within the next week. *^_^***_


	3. Chapter 3

He felt movement return to his limbs, the fingers of his right hand toying with the edge of the blanket, as if seeking consent.

Makoto blinked, twice, wanting to know what Haru's hand was up to, but apparently not quite yet wanting to break eye contact.

Haru sucked in a deep breath as he fully grasped onto the edge of the covers and peeled them back so that there was an opening to invite himself inside, not wishing to prolong any of this madness as he heedlessly lifted himself up from his knees and onto the bed. The mattress bounced underneath his weight a bit before he settled on his bottom, his arms outstretched and supporting him from behind.

"H-Haru…?"

The blue-eyed boy tossed his hair out of his face diffidently, bringing the bedcovers up and over his lower body before looking down at Makoto, who hadn't seemed to had moved a muscle. His eyes were still clear and immersed, a hint of nervousness knitting in his brow.

Haru bit the bullet and lowered his body.

His head caused a disturbance on the surface of Makoto's pillow.

And the abrupt presence of _him_ so close, in the low light, concealed beneath dense layers…. Haru was swimming in senses so warm and deep and delusional.

Makoto had rotated onto his side anxiously, his eyes a bit wider than before, his cheeks undoubtedly several shades darker at this point. His mouth was slightly parted in awe. He wasn't really giving away too many hints as to how he was feeling about the situation, however.

A moment of panic tore through Haru after he instinctively turned onto his side as well, realizing just how little space separated them from head to toe; mere inches. Haru was incredibly aware of Makoto's breathing as he scanned his face up and down, hungrily taking in every handsome detail of how alive he was.

Makoto blinked again and looked as though he was positively aching to know what was going on. Haru nearly trembled, burning to know what it would feel like to touch Makoto…. He was so wide-eyed and innocent and perfect and Haru was helpless and perishing and undeniably aroused.

Feeling childish, Haru diverted his eyes once again and ducked his nose underneath the covers. A small and familiar giggle from the boy opposite of him drifted through the dark stillness, sending both alarm and alleviation to the knot in his core. He peeked at Makoto carefully to find a calm smile replacing some of the confusion in his expression. It was Haru's turn to look as though he was in awe.

Makoto's smile softened ever so slightly, his one arm curled up beneath the side of his head comfortably. "samui, ne?" he asked, on the verge of a whisper. _It's cold tonight, huh?_

Haru's heart was thrumming. _It's not so cold when I'm with you_, he felt like saying. No, no, no no _no_, absolutely positively _gross_. Not that it wouldn't be _true_; he felt like he was being engulfed in flames. In actuality it was a bit of a chilly evening, but Haru hadn't been feeling very cold for the majority of the day, apart from the occasional chills that had snuck up on him.

Haru gritted his teeth. "Yeah, i-it is cold," he uttered in half-truth.

Makoto bit coyly at his bottom lip instead of smiling more like Haru had mostly expected him to.

The flames were now literally scorching him, he couldn't think of anything to do other than to divert his eyes and press his forehead down onto Makoto's chest.

With a fragile hand he gripped onto the fabric of Makoto's nightshirt and oh shit what was he doing; _what was he suggesting here?_

Haru choked back a whimper. Being so near was giving him all sorts of trouble.

He held his breath, concentrating on the warm, firm feeling of Makoto's chest, anxiously waiting for Makoto to do something, _anything._ Haru was worried, worried that he was ruining things… But it felt so good… It felt exhilarating to do something that he thought he would only ever dream of doing. He didn't want to pressure Makoto into anything he wouldn't feel comfortable with… Well, the raging storm below his waist told him that he kind of did maybe a little bit. But in truth, Makoto wasn't showing any signs of resistance. He was hushed, wholly allowing Haru to lean into him. Haru felt the smallest trace of Makoto's chin graze the top of his head, but that was all. Haru wouldn't be surprised if he had sent the poor boy into shock. His heartbeat was rather steady though; Haru could feel it, repeatedly nudging him as he hid his face. He tried to focus on all of these little details instead of his hammering thoughts. If Makoto was seriously against this he_ probably_ would've acted all squirmy and outraged by now….

The brisk sound of mild rainfall from outside gave the silence something to enfold, the sleepy minutes feeling dreamlike as they leapt by.

Makoto deliberately angled his shoulder forward, enclosing Haru in his spot, seemingly alright with this unfamiliar amount of closeness… Maybe Makoto wanted this, too? If anything, maybe he really was alright with this. Haru felt thankful, thankful that Makoto had just moved of his own accord; had chosen to tilt even closer into Haru's touch.

Makoto scrunched his legs up towards his chest just a little bit, almost as if he was going to curl himself up into a ball, causing his knees to brush up against Haru's underneath the blankets. Haru let out a shaky breath, a miniature sigh escaping him at the new contact. Makoto left his legs where they were and gingerly reached over to grasp the hem of Haru's shirt sleeve between his thumb and pointer finger, the heartfelt hum vibrating at the crown of Haru's head firing something straight down to his crotch _damn it._

He wanted to hear Makoto make that sound again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again.

Haru wanted to scream and maybe dig his hands into the perfectly untidy nest of hair lying parallel to his, driving their mouths together to feel the heat of their blush skin on skin, to feel how soft Makoto's lips must be, giving that bashfulness of his some release. He wanted to curl his leg around Makoto until they were constricted enough to feel each other completely, panting inside the crook of Makoto's neck until he'd somehow find an adequate amount of air. He wanted Makoto to take hold of his chin and tip it upward so that all he would ever see is that brilliant, euphoric green. He wanted to pin Makoto on his back and grind down into him wildly, only to have the stronger boy flip him over onto his own back, pressing him securely into the mattress beneath, enveloping him. He wanted them to claw at each other's clothes urgently, leaving their cheeks and ears even more reddened and vulnerable. Haru wanted to feel the arc in his back and a mind-numbing tightness and know that maybe just possibly Makoto needed Haru just as much he needed Makoto... He wanted the warmth to swallow him whole... He wanted to die in Makoto's arms, in blissful fire.

Somehow these feelings, and thoughts, seemed so new, even though Haru could've sworn that they had been around for some time now…. He was emotionally exhausted from puzzling over whether or not his desires had even the slightest chance in hell, but Makoto's heartbeat, existing right there against Haru's body, was surprisingly keeping him centered despite the fervor.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, allowing his muscles to relax. He wondered if Makoto was falling asleep….

He wanted to savor this moment… It was pretty damn special. They had always been close; always together.

Maybe this moment was a stepping stone to what they could be, strung together by little sparks of vulnerability.

Haru had to admit that in a way he liked how it still felt innocent… Despite the fact that he knew he was crossing a line, that he could literally feel the shift in the foundation of a not-so-impenetrable wall. He liked how they could be calm together like this.

And apparently, now quite obviously, he liked Makoto.

More than a friend.

He had just fantasized about being fucked by Makoto for God's sake. And why else would he crawl right up to his bedside and invite himself in? And why else would he wait to get out of the bath every morning before school until Makoto loyally arrived, or glance over at him during class in hope that he was ignoring the lesson as well, or walk beside Makoto close enough so that their hands brush only often enough to be nothing more than a coincidence.

And Haru could only ever hope that all of the little details day in and day out that were of Makoto's doing instead were the farthest thing from a coincidence. Purposeful, meaningful; the most bashful flirting that ever existed.

Haru liked the closeness… He feared the opposite, he feared the idea of everyone who was supposed to love and care for him abandoning him, leaving him hollow. He instinctively tried to keep a distance in an attempt to soften the blow of any inevitable partings, because he knew how deeply it hurt….

But the closeness, he liked it and needed it, and although he somehow feared it also, he feared the opposite far greater.

And here he was with Makoto, whose breathing remained fairly steady, dancing right along the top of Haru's head, making the moonstruck boy blink almost excitedly.

"Haru-u…," Makoto spoke familiarly, his tender voice faltering at the end as if trying so hard to hold onto the uncertainty of the moment. Haru was anxious to know if Makoto finally had something to say about all of this.

"Hm…?" He ran his teeth along his bottom lip as he stayed glued to Makoto's torso.

Makoto seemed to be struggling for exactly what he wanted to say. Haru let the feeling of the taller boy sink down into him, straight to the anticipation in his core, his one hand continuing to grip onto Makoto's shirt, mainly because he wasn't sure what to do with it if he were to let go.

Makoto tilted his head to nuzzle his left cheek assuredly on Haru's forehead, yielding more audible intakes of breath from the both of them.

"Mmm…," Makoto murmured, low and affectionate. "Haru's hair is… soft."

Oh.

Haru was rather startled by how the lower half of his body was responding to this simple remark.

But it wasn't simple at all.

Makoto's face was on Haru's forehead. Makoto's lips were right there. He was breathing in Haru's hair, still the slightest bit damp from his bath.

Makoto thinks Haru's hair is soft. Makoto likes Haru's hair. It was all so warmhearted, as to be expected from Makoto.

Haru continued to cling on for dear life, feeling like an idiot as he urged forward even further as if it would prevent him from falling apart. All he wished he could do was reach up into Makoto's hair and tell him how soft his was, too.

"Is this… okay?" Makoto whispered hopefully as he removed his hand that had been clasping onto Haru's borrowed shirt sleeve. He placed it carefully on Haru's lower back, pressing them closer together.

Oh hell yes it was _more_ than okay. Haru could've cried from joy.

He bit down on his lip furiously to keep from moaning now that Makoto's thigh was up against his own, and the stark weight of Makoto's hand….

He was the one who initiated all of this insanity and yet he continued to suffocate himself like a coward. The heat overtaking his body was hotter than summer itself. How could Makoto be so kind to him? How could he be so tolerant of someone so insecure? Haru hated how his spirit wavered like this…. He wanted to hide away forever, he was always under so much pressure….

But somehow, slowly, he willed himself to lift his chin, feeling just how warm his own cheeks were against the fresh air in the room.

His eyes paused on Makoto's lips for just a moment before looking up to meet his patient gaze, some of the moonlight through the curtains illuminating their faces. Short, adrenalized little breaths caught at the corner of their mouths suspended above them midair, like a handmade mobile. Haru wondered if this is what it felt like to drown.

Makoto sucked in a sharp breath, and then giggled, surprising Haru yet again. He could tell that Makoto's eyes were crinkling jovially at the corners.

"What?" he croaked, remembering that he had a voice.

"Nothing…," Makoto answered modestly, giggling again before lowering his gaze somewhere down around Haru's shoulders.

Haru rolled his eyes. Please, it wasn't _nothing_. Haru poked him playfully in the waist without really thinking.

"Ah-!" Makoto's airy yelp penetrated the silence, the hand on Haru's back grasping him tighter in alarm.

"What's so funny…?" Haru asked impatiently, trying really damn hard not to perish over the fact that their abdomens were now at high-risk of touching.

"Nothing, nothing's funny, exactly, I'm just, it's just-"

"Tell me," Haru complained intently, his fist on Makoto's shirt finally loosening. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long for Makoto to give in, he just enjoyed seeing Makoto wriggle under the fluidity of his voice.

Haru moved his hand, settling to place it on Makoto's arm, near the bend of his elbow.

"Well, it's just… Haru's really cute, is all…."

Haru held his breath as a combination of glee and annoyance hit him headlong.

_kawaii._ Makoto's voice had a habit of echoing in his ears.

He, he was not _cute_. Haru found it ridiculously cute that Makoto thought_ he_ was the cute one, but, honestly.

Haru braced himself for yet another wave of warmth as he watched Makoto lift his gaze bashfully, seeking a response. Oh, he'd give him a response all right. He glared threateningly, hoping that Makoto could sense his disapproval through the dim light.

Makoto only laughed, velvety and a little louder than before, not finding Haru's conspicuous pouting very threatening at all.

"I'm not cute," Haru grumbled, nudging Makoto's thigh teasingly. Makoto nudged him back without pause. Haru was beginning to think that maybe today was turning out to be reasonably productive after all.

"Fine then, you're not cute," Makoto answered, his voice as sugary as ever. His smile was the last thing Haru saw before he lowered his face once again to rest his cheek against Haru's forehead.

"_kirei_…," Makoto whispered simply after a moment's silence.

Haru felt his eyes widen and his pulse downright quit.

He wanted to doubt that he had heard Makoto's mumble correctly, but….

kirei. _Beautiful._

Haru closed his eyes. His muscles easing, his limbs melting, his heart soundless underwater.

Makoto's feet found Haru's below the bedcovers, and it felt cold, Makoto's toes tracing against the burning that stretched down the entire surface of Haru's body.

Timidly, Makoto tried stroking the place behind Haru's right ear; a bit awkwardly at first, until it wasn't anymore.

He nestled his nose into the crown of Haru's head, sweetly disrupting the perfect fall of dark indigo strands.

Haru had so many things to say, so many words unspoken, so much so that he said nothing at all, like he often did. He listened instead, he was much better at listening, to the quietness and harmonious breathing sounds.

He began to drift off, though he wasn't sure if he was ready to, sleep sweeping over the room unexpectedly swift. He felt his mind go fuzzy, the dull ache in his pants not seeming so bad anymore.

He had no more energy to wonder, to wonder what every day would be like from here on out, to wonder if Makoto was drifting off too, or if he would wait until he knew that the boy in his arms was sound asleep first.

Haru felt there was always a promise for the future every time water touched his skin; the fire extinguished, making space for dreams of resting in the tidewater embrace of seafoam green.

* * *

><p><strong>Heeeey! I'm honestly <em>so<em> sorry for the wait! I had previously promised to release this chapter sometime last week, but um, that didn't quite happen, did it. My most sincere apologies! But here you are, chapter 3; possibly the last chapter...? I have an idea of where I'd like to take this if anyone would be interested in reading more, but at the same time I also feel like these 3 chapters stand alone decently. **

**Either way, I want to thank you so very much for reading! Until next time!**


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